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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Yandere Priest x GN! Reader

Another part to my yandere supernatural harem. Masterlist here

Story has some Christian themes, but is not completely based from them

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: light body horror, character injury, briefly mentioned non consensual kiss, religious themes

Biting. Clawing. Tearing. The only thing he could remember. Talons piercing his skin, teeth on the vital arteries beneath – bursting under each individual fang. A robbery gone wrong had led this man to a fate crueler than death; a vicious beast spawned right before his eyes with a single mission in its mind, to make him feel absolute anguish. Lying on the cold earth. No one to comfort him in his final moments, unlike the person he’d harmed. Light fading-

He wakes up. The room is cold, he’s cold. He holds himself, memories flooding back to conscious mind. It felt better than where he had been moments before – anything did. He looked around the room. It looked empty, but something was there. He could feel it.

“Good evening.”

He turns. Someone stares from the shadows of the room. Bandaged hands clasp tightly over their lap, one looser than the other.

“W..who the fuck are you?”

“No need for that kind of language. I’m just here to ask a few questions. You know, when you died they said it looked like a bear had mauled you, but there isn’t any place where one could’ve come from for miles.”

He swallowed.

“But I’m not here for that. I want to know more about a friend of yours.”

A tall figure looms over you, hand gripping the blankets wrapped snugly around your body. The presence was suffocating; like said hand was slowly reaching for your neck. It instead hooks onto your blankets and tears them from your arms in one swift move.

“Good morning, Y/n!”

You groan, sitting up to meet the blank, yet bright eyed angel by your bedside. The enormous smile on his face pulls even further; meaning you had yet to rid the sleep from your eyes.

“Isn’t it like… 9:00am.”

He chuckles. “No, eight actually. Did you forget our plans for the day?”

You groan louder. A grim reaper, demon, and your very own guardian angel. Pains in your side for the majority of their stay, who’s thorns you were finally getting used to. With the couple rules you had in place already, another few had been added to the pile; namely in the comfort of your fellow housemates. One day of every weekend, each one of them would get a day without you; with the final weekend of the month being for yourself – which went about as well as one could imagine. The reaper and demon had already had their turn for the month, and so now it was the angel’s turn.

The thought had been brewing in Alasdair’s mind for a while. He had heard, and even read, of the various religions on earth; but knew little beyond average knowledge. During his time in heaven, he carried little about the human realm, until he met you; developing an interest in the cultures to benefit you both. For his day with you, he asked if you would join him in visiting a church; which you reluctantly agreed to. It was more toned down than racing shopping carts through grocery store aisles and had more to it than just relaxing on the couch – not that you really had a problem with either.

“Come on, we’ll be late if you don’t get up.” Alasdair pulls the blankets further from your grasp and helps you up. You shower and put on your Sunday best; him already ready to head out. With a formal suit and tie being eighty percent of his wardrobe, you didn’t expect him to have to do much to prepare anyway. You say your goodbyes to the other two and head out.

The building was an elegant structure. Faded white bricks made up its walls; a tall tower stuck to the hip of the main building – a silver cross upon its peak and along the edges of the center place. Tinted glass surrounded each window; a large circulator panel over tall, oak wood doors standing out above the otherwise rectangular glass. The twin doors stand propped open for the day’s service; faint light at the end of the altar glowing ominously – like distant flames of a furnace. The smell of herbs and burning candle wax hit strong as you enter; both you and Alasdair sitting in pews at the very back of the church.

The interior was even more marvelous. Cream colored walls basked in a warm light from lanterns;

Moments after you settle down, a man walks up to the podium before the altar. Specs of grey salts his shoulder length, champagne hair colored; a single green eye visible through the unkempt mane – smiling cordially at the crowd below. Bandaged poke from the collar of his black robes to the sleeves; small scars dawning his pale knuckles. He places his hand on the surface of the podium, surveying the room with a quick sweep as the kind smile from his eye spreads to his lips. In the very last second his gaze washed over the room, you could have sworn he took a double glance at you.

“Friends, family, newcomers. We thank you all for joining us on another glorious day that the lord has given us. Let us join in faith and allow him to guide us in his glory to a brighter light.”

After the morning prayer, he begins to read off scripture verse from the Bible. Alasdair seems completely encapsulated in the words of the priest, but you couldn’t shake the familiar feeling of being watched.

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their home and confidence.”

Once service ends, you and Alasdair prepare to leave. If you hurried, there was time to get a bit more reset before the next activity of the day. Before you could make it to the exit, footsteps click to a halt on the checkered floor behind you.

“Good day.”

You turn. The priest stands before you, arms tucked behind his back with a grin plastered to his face. It felt – different from the one he gave before. More genuine than before, yet eerie at the same time.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you two before. It’s always nice to have young new faces.”

Alasdair extends a hand, and a friendly smile. “Alasdair, and this is Y/n.”

Basically ignoring Alasdair, the priest turns his focus to you, offering his palm to you instead. “Father Aiken. It’s a pleasure.”

You hesitantly shake it. His grip is firm; the gesture lasting a few seconds longer than needed. He stares you down, calloused fingers deep in your palm – the pulse beneath almost palpable. He lets go and returns his hand to its original position.

“Our doors are always open. Come by anytime.” He nods in Alasdair’s general direction before heading off. You decide to leave without questioning it any further.

On the way home, you strike up a conversation with Alasdair.

“So.. what did you think?”

“It was.. an interest. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but before we met I paid little attention to your kind. It’s quite the experience to hear more about your beliefs in our creator.” He furrowed his brows. “But that man seemed.. off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every being gives off some kind of aura, even us angels. They could be factors in your race, or measures of your moral code like with you humans. Aiken didn’t have one at all. The only other time I’ve seen this is with…” He shakes his head.” ah, it’s probably nothing to worry about. Did you have a good time, Y/n?”

“It was alright… Would you go again?”

“I’m honestly not sure."

Days go by and you pretty much push the encounter to the back of your mind. You head out with Baron one day to pick up a couple things from the grocery store; the demon fortunately in human form as he rushed through the isles like a bat out of hell. With him off on his own, you venture elsewhere to find your personal wares. As you search the many shelves, a familiar voice calls from over your shoulder.

“Y/n?”

Looking back, you see Father Aiken; dressed in a casual outfit of a sweater and pants – shopping basket in one hand. It was easier to see the cloth wrapped around his body in the looser clothing; discolored poking from their length. He places his hand over his chest as he lets out a soft gasp.

“Ah, I thought it was you, my dear. How are you on this fine afternoon?”

“Not bad. How about you, Father?”

“Oh please, call me Jeremiah. No need for formalities. I didn’t see you at our last service. I don’t mean to pry, but will you ever return?”

You crack a nervous smile. “Sorry… I’ve just been busy with.. things-"

He frowns a bit. “Ah well, that's unfortunate. Excuse me.”

Jeremiah goes to grab something from the shelf beside your head, only for it to slip from his grasp and class to the ground. Being closer, you kneel to pick it up; yet he does the same. His hand glides over yours, but instead of pulling back he grabs it. You attempt to worm free, but he strokes the back of your palm as he squeezes your hand.

“I knew it… You’ve been through so much haven’t you, Y/n?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have troubles. Ones you can’t talk about with others. Haunted by foolish mistakes.”

You clench your jaw; looking towards the ground – his smile grows.

“Please stop by this weekend. We’re having a baptism, and I’d love to get to speak with you more.

He lets you go, standing up right as Baron turns the corner with the shopping cart. The two share a passing glance, but Jeremiah leaves. Baron rushes over to you.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good…”

You get dressed for the service before either of your bedmates wake up – or so you thought. As you leave the bathroom, Alasdair stands near the doorway waiting.

“Are you heading somewhere, Y/n?”

“Nowhere specific. Just heading out.” You reply, avoiding eye contact.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“I’m fine on my own.”

“Are you sure-"

“Yes.” As comfortable as you were getting with them around, there were always times you felt suffocated by their constant attention – maybe that’s why you were going where you were now. Alasdair drops the subject, a thin frown on his face. You squeeze past him and exit the room. He looks over at Baron who had been woken by fuss.

“It looks like I’ll be heading out too.”

The service goes on without a hitch. At its end, Jeremiah calls forth a young male sitting in the front row. The pair stand before a small fountain, the waters within giving of a golden light; though hard to tell whether it was from the lights above or the bowl. The man kneels, Jeremiah dipping his palm into the cool waters. He swipes his hand over the man’s forehead as he speaks.

“Today we acknowledge the death of your old self and the professions of faith. You have been raised to a new life along the path of your worship, and in the name of the Holy Lord I now baptize you.”

He brings his finger down in the opposite direction, helping the man to his feet afterwards. The service lets out soon after that and he walks to you, sitting beside you as the final person leaves. He gently places his hand on your leg.

“You came. I’m glad.”

“What did you mean.. back at the store?”

He exhales. “You are a very special person, Y/n. I could see that even during our first meeting, and I can also see what’s been shackled to you for many months. Powerful entities that barely leave you with a breath to spare. Am I wrong?”

You sigh. “Not completely.”

“It seems you’ve grown attached to them as well, and that’s understandable, but the best course of action might be to let it all go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Give yourself over to faith, Y/n. By my hand, and the lord’s, we can help you find eternal peace. You can live without a single worry.”

You look away. Sure, the group was a pain, but they had grown on you – just like he said. The times of you wanting to get completely rid of them were in the past, but sometimes they still came into question. The multiple times you escaped near death had worn you down. Many things had. Everything he had said sounded ridiculous, but so much of your life up to this point had been as well.

“I don’t know about that.”

Jeremiah smiles warmly. “It’s alright, my dear. We all need time before tough choices. I’ll expect you next week.”

Alasdair watches you from behind a pillar, heart sunken at the defeat in your eyes. He eases past and to a door at the end of the hall – Jeremiah's office. It’s what you’d typically expect to see in such a place. A fan in one corner, calendar and various religious tapestries along the walls – desk in the center of the room. He goes over to it, searching the drawers for any information. The first few are empty, yet the final catches his eye. It has a lock; broken like wet tissue paper with enough force. At first all he sees is papers that seem unimportant at first, until he stumbles across a photo. One of you.

There’s more beneath. Ones of you at work; on the way home – inside your house. Dates written in red ink are printed on the back. He looks over the papers once more. Upon second glance; he realizes they ate schedules of your habits – likely looking for the right moment you’d be alone. As if it couldn’t get worse,, the final item in the drawer chills him to the core. It was a bone. The wing bone of a bird.

You return home hours later. It was actually nice to take to another human for a little while. Your conversation derailed from your problems and to average questions about the day – like something friends would have. The second you unlock the door, hands grip your shoulders and pull you in like the talons of a hawk.

“Where. Were. You.”

Alasdair’s stare is unlike anything you’ve never seen. Unhinged, panicked. He holds onto your like you’d slip through the cracks if he let go. It almost hurt.

“I went to church. Is that a crime?”

“Stay away from that man. He’s not safe to be around.”

“He seems fine to me. Let go- that hurts!”

He immediately lets you go at the announcement of your discomfort, not realizing he had been unintentionally clamping down on your shoulder. The surface is red, throbbing. The anger and fear in him instantly turns into guilt.

“I.. I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want to keep you safe. That’s what we all want.”

You bit your lip; bite back what you have to say. When was it your turn to get what you wanted? These people have forced their way into your life, and while you made your peace with it; you longed for a taste of your life before. The silence.

“Promise me that you won’t go back.”

“I promise…

“Look at me and say it.”

You stare him in the eyes. “I promise I won’t go back.”

You wake at the crack of dawn, far before anyone else. You had slept that night with Maddox to further throw off suspicion. They were nestled in the corner of the couch, practically swallowed by it to give you as much space as they could. He had a look of utter contentment on his face. He always did when you slept with him. You replace your body with one of the arm pillows and leave; unaware of the eyes from the shadows.

The sun barely peaks over the horizon as you make it to the church. You planned on just camping out, but find the doors to be unlocked as you test them to make sure. The building is even creepier in the early hours. An empty husk of it could be; pews empty except for the silent wind. You see a figure at the end of the walkway and take a few steps forward; taking note of how it was a few inches taller than Jeremiah as you neared, and wearing less baggy, more formal clothes.

“You lied to me, Y/n.”

Alasdair glares down at you, closing the distance. He doesn’t let you make your case; grabbing your wrist as he heads to the exit. “We’re leaving.”

“I just wanted to give him an answer.”

“He doesn’t deserve any of your time, forget him.”

“You don’t understand…”

He grabs your other wrist, forcing you to look at him as he halts in the middle of the aisle; fear and trepidation clear on his face. Something you’ve only seen once before. “No, Y/n, you don’t understand. That man has been watching you. He’s been killing ange-"

Halfway through his sentence, something pierces Alasdair’s chest. His eyes meet yours, golden blood dribbling over his lips. The item removes itself from the cavity; his body slumping backwards. His hands still hold onto you, lightly pushing you away – almost telling you to run instead of it being the force of his limbs growing slack. As he collapses to the floor, you see the cause of the damage – blood dancing along the thin fingers of a bandaged hand.

You had seen Alasdair get hurt before. You were cutting something, and dropped the knife. He grabbed it, blade first with his bare hand – not even a drop of blood falling from the wound. Just an empty void in his palm.

“It’s alright, Y/n. There’s nothing man-made that can hurt me.”

“A pest this one was. Most of his kind are. Ah well, this was bound to be his fate someday.”

Jeremiah brings his hand to his face, licking the blood from each individual finger. As if only noticing you once he finished the cruel act, he grins.

“Hello, my dear.”

You trembled; legs geared to flee, yet remained stiff as stone. He steps on Alasdair’s sprawled out hand as he walks towards you.

“I’m very happy to see you again, Y/n~”

You stare past him, at Alasdair’s body; the blood circling him like tar. “H…how?”

“Growing up God, my family was extremely religious , even in the toughest hour. I tried my hardest to follow behind, but even then I knew the truth. God abandoned us, Y/n.”

You look in his direction.

“Did he ever tell you that? It’s the first thing those like him say. Blindlessly following orders from something that hasn’t been heard from in years. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?”

He cocks his head to the side, farther than humanly possibly. “Do you know why?”

“It’s because he’s dead.”

The bandages around his neck and arms fall; like whatever lies beneath was too much to keep wrapped. The skin under is raw, fleshy; pinkish like the muscles beneath – bulging off his body like a virus. Eyes tear through the mesh; blink starred, half lidded. The “flesh” drips over his left arm, its length and combining his fingers into a singular mass. Through the strands of his hair, his other eye becomes visible. Eyes to paint a better picture. Another eye had squeezed itself into the socket; iris yellow in color and surrounded by small rings.

“And I’m his replacement.”

“A..are you saying that you…”

“Killed God? Heaven’s no, silly! I merely found his corpse and ate it. I suspect the lazy bastard died sometime after the creation of man.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re killing angels.”

“Not just angels. Anything that stands in my way. Humans are terribly flawed, Y/n. A majority of us worship a corpse for Christ’s sake! I’ll be what he failed to be. A Shepherd for humanity and bring it to its most prosperous hour. The light at the end of the tunnel. But none of that can be done, without you.”

He brings his hand up to your face, gently stroking your cheek. The limb is hot, almost unbearably so. He gives you the same warm smile he always had.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, Y/n.. You’ve brought so many from beyond the veil to your doorstep when you’re what some would call an average person. I’ve been watching you, unsure what I should do with someone like you; but overtime I’ve come to see what those vermin have as well. You’re an extraordinary being with the will to go on after so much pain. What many have lost the will to do. You make me feel something I haven’t been in ages… human.”

He presses his lips to yours, locking you in a kiss with his hand to the back of your neck. Alasdair’s blood still clings to his bottom lip. He pulls away with a look of amazement.

“What a rush! Ah, I’ve missed feeling things like this. You’re the only one who can ground me to this reality, make sure I keep the one thing I lost so long ago. I was planning on taking you myself, but since you came on your own I knew our courtship was meant to be. You feel the same way… right?~”

You don’t say anything. No words come to mind. Everything feels numb. You still look past him, at the body on the ground below. The blood rushes to your head. You’re unable to feel his tremendous gaze; the scream that echoes through the church’s hall – how your body falls from his grasp and unto the arms of another.

Maddox carries you in their arms away from the building; Baron close by with Alasdair’s limp form over his shoulders. Jeremiah is nowhere to be seen. Time feels like it’s going by at a crawl. You hear the faint tick of a clock as Maddox's skeletal hands drag you away from the scene. He looks down at you, expression unreadable as he covers your eyes with his free palm.

Upon returning home, Baron carries Alasdair to the bedroom to tend to his wounds. “He’s still warm.” Is all he gave you. Maddox stays with you on the couch, holding your shaking hands; your head in the crook of his neck.

“He’ll be okay.” He tries, but you knew that neither of you knew if that was true. Though your memories were a haze after that final moment, you remember the last thing Jeremiah said to you.

“See you, soon…”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere story #yandere series #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere demon #yandere angel #yandere grim reaper #x reader #reader insert

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mariacallous · 3 months

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Sherwood Eddy was a prominent American missionary as well as that now rare thing, a Christian socialist. In the 1920s and ’30s, he made more than a dozen trips to the Soviet Union. He was not blind to the problems of the U.S.S.R., but he also found much to like. In place of squabbling, corrupt democratic politicians, he wrote in one of his books on the country, “Stalin rules … by his sagacity, his honesty, his rugged courage, his indomitable will and titanic energy.” Instead of the greed he found so pervasive in America, Russians seemed to him to be working for the joy of working.

Above all, though, he thought he had found in Russia something that his own individualistic society lacked: a “unified philosophy of life.” In Russia, he wrote, “all life is focused in a central purpose. It is directed to a single high end and energized by such powerful and glowing motivation that life seems to have supreme significance.”

Eddy was wrong about much of what he saw. Joseph Stalin was a liar and a mass murderer; Russians worked because they were hungry and afraid. The “unified philosophy of life” was a chimera, and the reality was a totalitarian state that used terror and propaganda to maintain that unity. But Eddy, like others in his era, was predisposed to admire the Soviet Union precisely because he was so critical of the economics and politics of his own country, Depression-era America. In this, he was not alone.

In his landmark 1981 book, Political Pilgrims: Travels of Western Intellectuals to the Soviet Union, China, and Cuba, Paul Hollander wrote of the hospitality showered on sympathetic Western visitors to the Communist world: the banquets in Moscow thrown for George Bernard Shaw, the feasts laid out for Mary McCarthy and Susan Sontag in North Vietnam. But his conclusion was that these performances were not the key to explaining why some Western intellectuals became enamored of communism. Far more important was their estrangement and alienation from their own cultures: “Intellectuals critical of their own society proved highly susceptible to the claims put forward by the leaders and spokesmen of the societies they inspected in the course of these travels.”

Hollander was writing about left-wing intellectuals in the 20th century, and many such people are still around, paying court to left-wing dictators in Venezuela or Bolivia who dislike America. There are also, in our society as in most others, quite a few people who are paid to help America’s enemies, or to spread their propaganda. There always have been.

But in the 21st century, we must also contend with a new phenomenon: right-wing intellectuals, now deeply critical of their own societies, who have begun paying court to right-wing dictators who dislike America. And their motives are curiously familiar. All around them, they see degeneracy, racial mixing, demographic change, “political correctness,” same-sex marriage, religious decline. The America that they actually inhabit no longer matches the white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant America that they remember, or think they remember. And so they have begun to look abroad, seeking to find the spiritually unified, ethnically pure nations that, they imagine, are morally stronger than their own. Nations, for example, such as Russia.

The pioneer of this search was Patrick Buchanan, the godfather of the modern so-called alt-right, whose feelings about foreign authoritarians shifted right about the time he started writing books with titles such as The Death of the West and Suicide of a Superpower. His columns pour scorn on modern America, a place he once described, with disgust, as a “multicultural, multiethnic, multiracial, multilingual ‘universal nation’ whose avatar is Barack Obama.” Buchanan’s America is in demographic decline, has been swamped by beige and brown people, and has lost its virtue. The West, he has written, has succumbed to “a sexual revolution of easy divorce, rampant promiscuity, pornography, homosexuality, feminism, abortion, same-sex marriage, euthanasia, assisted suicide—the displacement of Christian values by Hollywood values.”

This litany of horrors isn’t much different from what can be heard most nights on Fox News. Listen to Tucker Carlson. “The American dream is dying,” Carlson declared one recent evening, in a monologue that also referred to “the dark age that we are living through.” Carlson has also spent a lot of time on air reminiscing about how the United States “was a better country than it is now in a lot of ways,” back when it was “more cohesive.” And no wonder: Immigrants have “plundered” America, thanks to “decadent and narcissistic” politicians who refuse to “defend the nation.” You can read worse on the white-supremacist websites of the alt-right—do pick up a copy of Ann Coulter’s Adios America: The Left’s Plan to Turn Our Country Into a Third World Hellhole—or hear more extreme sentiments in some evangelical churches. Franklin Graham has declared, for example, that America “is in deep trouble and on the verge of total moral and spiritual collapse.”

What a terrible place all of these people are describing. Who would want to live in a country like that? Or, to put it differently: Who wouldn’t sympathize with the enemies of a country like that? As it turns out, many do. Certainly Buchanan does. Russian cyberwarriors work with daily determination to undermine American utilities and electricity grids. Russian information warriors are trying to deform American political debate. Russian contract killers are murdering people on the streets of Western countries. Russian nuclear weapons are pointed at us and our allies.

Nevertheless, Buchanan has come to admire the Russian president because he is “standing up for traditional values against Western cultural elites.” Once again, he feels the shimmering lure of that elusive sense of “unity” and purpose that complicated, diverse, quarrelsome America always lacks. Impressed with the Russian president’s use of Orthodox pageantry at public events, Buchanan even believes that “Putin is trying to re-establish the Orthodox Church as the moral compass of the nation it had been for 1,000 years before Russia fell captive to the atheistic and pagan ideology of Marxism.”

He is not alone. The belief that Russia is on our side in the war against secularism and sexual decadence is shared by a host of American Christian leaders, as well as their colleagues on the European far right. Among them, for example, are the movers and shakers behind the World Congress of Families, an American evangelical and anti-gay-rights organization that Buchanan has explicitly praised. One of the WCF’s former leaders, Larry Jacobs, once declared that “the Russians might be the Christian saviors of the world.” The WCF even has a Russian branch, which is run by Alexey Komov, a man in turn linked to Konstantin Malofeev, a Russian oligarch who has hosted far-right meetings all across Europe. At the WCF’s most recent meeting, in Verona, senior Russian priests mingled with leaders of the Italian far right, the Austrian far right, and their comrades from the American heartland.

Carlson’s support for Russia, by contrast, takes the form of snarling sarcasm rather than open admiration. Much as Jane Fonda once posed, just for the provocative kick of it, with a North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun, Carlson has started teasing his viewers and his critics with his amusingly contrarian views on Russia. “Why shouldn’t I root for Russia?” he asked recently. A couple of days later, he tried it again: “I think we should probably take the side of Russia, if we have to choose between Russia and Ukraine.”

Ironically, during the Reagan administration, Carlson’s father ran Voice of America, the radio station that broadcast American values into the U.S.S.R. Or maybe this is not an irony, but rather an explanation. In his book, Hollander described the prestige that Albanian communism once enjoyed in Sweden and Norway. Few Scandinavians had ever been there, but that didn’t matter: “Albania is picked up simply because it seems to be a club with a particularly sharp nail at the end of it with which to beat one’s own society, one’s own traditions, one’s own parents.” Now Carlson is using Russia as a club with which to beat his own society and his own traditions.

Fortunately for all such critics, they don’t have to spend much time in the country they are “rooting” for, because there is no greater fantasy than the idea that Russia is a country of Christian values. In reality, Russia has one of the highest abortion rates in the world, nearly double that of the United States. It has an extremely low record of church attendance, though the numbers are difficult to measure, not least because any form of Christianity outside of the state-controlled Orthodox Church is liable to be considered a cult. A 2012 survey showed that religion plays an important role in the lives of only 15 percent of Russians. Only 5 percent have read the Bible.

If American Christians would find little to cheer for in Vladimir Putin’s Russia, American white nationalists would be disappointed too. Carlson has wondered aloud about America’s racial mix, asking, “How precisely is diversity our strength?” He would have a real dilemma in Russia. Nearly 20 percent of Russian citizens do not even identify as Russian, telling pollsters that they belong to different nationalities, ranging from Tartar and Azeri to Ukrainian and Moldovan; more than 6 percent of Russians are Muslims, as opposed to 1.1 percent of the U.S. population. And that might be a gross underestimate of the actual number of Russian Muslims, since in some parts of the country, Muslims are off-limits to census takers. Remember all those phony stories about Swedish and British neighborhoods that are supposedly no-go zones ruled by Sharia law? Russia has an actual province, Chechnya, that is officially ruled by Sharia law. The local regime tolerates polygamy, requires women to be veiled in public places, and tortures gay men. It is a no-go zone, right inside Russia.

As for Putin himself, there is no evidence that this former KGB officer has actually converted, but plenty of evidence that Putin’s recent public displays of Christianity are just as cynical as Stalin’s vaunted love for the working classes. Among other things, they are useful precisely because they can hoodwink naive foreigners. But you don’t need to listen to me say so. Listen, instead, to the words of a young Russian, Yegor Zhukov, who was put on trial for publishing videos critical of the regime. In an extraordinary courtroom speech, he addressed the loud support for “the institutions of the family” that Putin often offers in Russia, and contrasted it with reality:

An impenetrable barrier divides our society in two. All the money is concentrated at the top and no one up there is going to let it go. All that’s left at the bottom—and this is no exaggeration—is despair. Knowing that they have nothing to hope for, that no matter how hard they try, they cannot bring happiness to themselves or their families, Russian men take their aggression out on their wives, or drink themselves to death, or hang themselves. Russia has the world’s [second] highest rate of suicide among men. As a result, a third of all Russian families are single mothers with their kids. I would like to know: Is this how we are protecting the institution of the family?

The reality of Russia isn’t the point, just as the reality of Stalinism wasn’t the point, not for Sherwood Eddy and not for George Bernard Shaw. The American intellectuals who now find themselves alienated from the country that they inhabit aren’t interested in reality. They are interested in a fantasy nation, different and distinct from their own hateful country. America, with its complicated social and political as well as ethnic diversity, with its Constitution that ensures we will never, ever all be forced to feel as if “all life is focused in a central purpose”—this America no longer appeals to them at all.

Most of them know that this fantasy foreign nation they admire seeks to put an end to all of that. It seeks to undermine American democracy, beat back American influence, and curtail American power. But to those who dislike American democracy, despair of American influence, and are angered by American power? That, truly, is the point.

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haggishlyhagging · 5 months

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… [I]t is quite strange that many people seem not even to dream that history could have been different, that progress could have taken different paths and we could have had—could still have—the benefits without the problems. It's an attitude brutally summed up by the binary adage, or rather, blackmail, that offers only "the nuclear age or the stone age" (with the result that we'll likely be stuck with both at once). Hence, at the end of his thoroughly researched history of the witch-hunts in Europe, which veils none of the horror, reconstructs the story as it unfolded and presents a rich and complex discussion of their cultural significance, Guy Bechtel comes to the surprising conclusion that, in essence, you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Indeed, he feels that this episode should be seen as a "revolution," and revolutions, Bechtel argues, "can only be achieved by the annihilation of opposing positions and of those who uphold them (or claim to uphold them)" He says, "The movement that tried to kill the witches is also, unwittingly of course, that which paved the way, later on, for the lives and thought of Montesquieu, Voltaire and Kant." In conclusion, he gives his blessing to a logic that he sums up with the maxim: "Killing the women of the past to create the men of the future." And, in doing so, Bechtel shows, once again, that historians of the witch-hunts are themselves products of the world that hunted the witches, and that they remain locked inside the frame of reference that the witch-hunts created. Bechtel's point of view is a stark contrast to the very different views of Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, who describe not only individual tragedies—the quashed aspirations and broken spirits of the hunts' victims—but also all that society denied itself by outlawing them, all that these women were prevented from developing and passing to future generations. Ehrenreich and English speak of "the sheer waste of talent and knowledge" represented by the witch-hunts, and urge us to undertake the "important task [. . . ] of recovering, or at least pointing out, what was lost."

Bechtel's determination to forcibly insert the horrendous history he has just pieced together into the virtuous account of the dawn of progress prompts him to come up with theories that are far-fetched to say the least: "It is likely that we are, at least partially, indebted to the unjustifiable massacre of the witches for a change in mindset toward greater rationalism, greater justice, stronger support for the right to legal defense and general awareness of human rights," as he puts it. An attempt to justify what you have, in the same sentence, just called unjustifiable? Matilda Joslyn Gage's analysis (as early as 1893) seems altogether more plausible:

“During the witchcraft period the minds of people were trained in a single direction. The chief lesson of the church that betrayal of friends was necessary to one's own salvation created an intense selfishness. All humanitarian feeling was lost in the effort to secure heaven at the expense of others, even those most closely bound by ties of nature and affection. Mercy, tenderness, compassion were all obliterated. Truthfulness escaped from the Christian world; fear, sorrow and cruelty reigned pre-eminent. [. . .] Contempt and hatred of women was inculcated with greater intensity; love of power and treachery were parts of the selfish lessons of the church. All reverence for length of years was lost. The sorrows and sufferings of a long life appealed to no sympathetic cord in the heart.”

A much more appropriate tableau to offer overexcited and gushy humanists requiring a cold shower.

-Mona Chollet, In Defense of Witches: The Legacy of the Witch Hunts and Why Women are Still on Trial

#mona chollet #witch hunts #male mind #justification #male entitlement #female oppression #anti christianity

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tired-reader-writer · 1 year

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*deep breath*

HOO BOI AM I INCREDIBLY NERVOUS.

The first outfit is just a very casual, home wear type of thing, I suppose! It's not much but he can just throw a coat on if he has to like say, receive a guest or meet someone or go out. Since I assigned the season spring to him for numerous reasons, I wanted to give this outfit soft spring sort of colours:

“Long associated with the cycle of life, birth/rebirth, and renewal/resurrection, the Vernal Equinox – Spring – signifies a time when light and darkness carry equal weight, creeping towards the Summer Solstice when the sun holds sway, extending the light of day.”

Hence, light green!

Those are almond flowers on his clothes, and as for my reasons for choosing almond flowers...

Buckle up babes, we're going on an Almond Journey.

“Highly revered in many cultures, the almond symbolizes watchfulness and promise of new life, as this tree is the first to burst into bloom in many countries. For the Jews, the almond branch was the model for the menorah, and for the Christians, it is a symbol of Jesus’ virgin birth. The almond blossom is also a symbol of bravery and courage, purity, hope, and love. From Greek mythology, the almond blossom is a symbol of eternal true love, unconquerable by death.”

“Blossoming branches of fruit and nut trees hold a special place in our ancestors’ collective unconscious. To them, the blossoms were sacred and held the Goddess’ promise of life and abundance. Ancient Romans revered the blossoming almond, showering newlyweds with the nuts as a fertility charm.

For our modern human psyche, the seemingly sudden bursts of color remind us of an eternal cycle of fresh starts, a recurring miracle. One day cocooned buds add diminutive points of color to dark branches. Overnight, the buds unfold into tiny blossoms, multi-petaled gems. Life begins anew, offering the promise of sustenance as the year ripens.”

Almond flowers bloom in spring, his assigned season (also, do you know how much of a hassle it was to find out when they bloom?? Google is such an asshat, it keeps giving mixed answers like “oh almonds are harvested in autumn” LIKE NO DUDE I WANT TO KNOW WHEN THEY BLOOM JFC—) (ahem anyways) and spring is... new beginnings, a fresh start, youth, idealism, that sort of stuff, right? And due to the role he plays in the AU (giving the clan a new start and some land to settle on, he's very idealistic and even though he matures he never lets go of said ideals, I've been wanting to write a scene where he “sat in vigil” alone as his two little ones slept kinda watching over them but I have not gotten to it I am so sorry, and while I'm guessing that the eternal true love business is supposed to be of romantic love I'm stretching it to include both romantic and platonic loves— aka he's a devoted and loyal husband to Kazai but also he will never stop treasuring Ayunnen and Kashi til the day he dies. And of course, there's no way he's gonna stop loving his little brother, and also his son.) almonds/almond flowers felt quite fitting. Also the Alborz mountains have almond trees, though I fucking forgot if almond trees originated from said mountain range. They probably did, iirc? Anyways, geographically it was a fit. (You have no idea how many times I've visited the Wikipedia page of the mountain range, bless them)

And the fact that it was used in wedding ceremonies is justba cherry on top. Not like he and Kazai are gonna need the fertility charm though LMAO

Anyways, moving onto the next one, it's just the same type of clothes as the first + a coat, suited for less relaxed settings! I tend to associate him with red, I wish I knew why, maybe it's his eyes, and I thought he'd look good in red so here he is, in red. A purple coat over that, and I tend to think of purple as the “family/household colour” as opposed to “personal colour” so I just made it the outermost layer, the “family/household colour” worn overtop the more personal colours, for more... I don't want to say formal, that's too stuffy for what I have in mind, but for like situations where he's not just with close/loved ones in a relaxed setting. That's also why I deliberately chose not to include purple in his first outfit. I thought I didn't have much to say about this one but huh, looks like I had a bit more than I initially thought. The yellow just looked nice on purple, haha. Though I did choose a softer, brighter yellow than what I'd give Kazai, to invoke the spring feel.

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, WE ARRIVE AT HIS WEDDING OUTFIT. BOI I WENT HAM ON THIS ONE AND I THINK YOU CAN TELL. I have like. SO MANY THOUGHTS.

First of all, GREEN. Green is the favored wedding colour of the clan, and he's wearing lots of green to honor that. @innerchorus said he'd look good in green and I wholeheartedly agree. Look at him.

The pin I'm having him wear on his innermost layer is supposed to be of an ash tree seed, though I did take some creative liberty with the design so uh, does it look like an ash tree seed anymore? Anyhow, the reason for choosing it is:

What do the seeds of ash, sycamore and maple trees have in common? They all are enclosed in a wing-like structure that helps them disperse - away from the parent plant and indeed each other.

It was just smth I saw on some tumblr post, and I was like... “so the apple fell faraway from the tree” and kinda interpreted this as him distancing himself from his parents' deeds and attitudes to pave his own path. He did not agree with their actions and thought processes. The mountain range does have ash trees, too! So yeah.

As for the leaves on the red parts of his outermost robe, I did choose a very particular tree's leaves, and said tree is Persian Ironwood!

Parrotia persica, the Persian ironwood, is a deciduous tree in the family Hamamelidaceae, closely related to the witch-hazel genus Hamamelis. It is native to Iran's Caspian region (where it is called انجیلی anjili) and Iranian Azerbaijan (where it is called Dəmirağacı). It is endemic in the Alborz mountains, where it is found mainly in Golestan National Park.

And Golestan is:

Golestān Province (Persian: استان گلستان, Ostān-e Golestān) is one of the 31 provinces of Iran, located in the north-east of the country and south-east of the Caspian Sea. Its capital is Gorgan.

Oh but I'm not done yet. That's not the only reason I chose this tree,

The name 'ironwood' comes from the almost indestructible nature of the tree's timber which may explain why it is not commercially grown. Herbalists have used the species for the treatment of various fevers and respiratory infections. It is also used for food colouring and food flavouring.

Ironwood is a common name for many woods or plants that have a reputation for hardness, or specifically a wood density that is heavier than water.

The wood is beyond strong, toughest in the face of floods, axes, and anything else.

I've even seen ironwoods described to have “unyielding strength”. Shapur, as I see him, is a very strict and stern (hence hard) man, but he is fair too. Maybe he and Kazai choose to plant an ironwood sapling? Undecided as of yet but I like the idea. I decided to include this in place of an entire tree like on Kazai's robe, mainly because I couldn't fit it on here but I still wanted to incorporate something for it. Tried making the leaves white, it clashed badly with the red imo, so... yeah.

The necklace! I feel like it's kinda lackluster but... I chose to stick with it. You'll see some similar choices as in Kazai's necklace, like the three repeating colours and such. There's also a wolf, I wanted more wolves on his actual clothes but... like with the tree, no place to put them on without it being cramped/jarring so... sadly I couldn't. The wolf is both Isfan and Areyan. His second layer, I really liked the asymmetrical trim look on his first outfit so I repeated that here, and of course, more almonds. This time it's the almond seeds, to reference the wedding thing. I tried to incorporate the colours from Kazai's wedding attire onto this too, to hopefully give a more cohesive feel. And as for the embroidery/detailing on the purple layer... I tried a bunch of times and decided this was nice. Also I wanted more pink on his clothes so... pink I included. In hindsight I probably should've included more white, this outfit doesn't have much white. But that could be in my favour too, since it could be said it's because Shapur doesn't follow that faith so he doesn't have as much but he still chose to honor it in subtle ways.

The ornaments on his braids, I don't know if they can be seen but there's dark blue beads! I probably should've chosen a lighter colour but... that's Kashi's colour, haha. And the white string was for Ayunnen. I like to think that that ornament originally belonged to Kashi (maybe she wore it at her own wedding), that Kazai gifted to Shapur instead of wearing it in his own hair.

I tried to reuse the colours from Kazai's wedding clothes sleeve for the trim on the neck of the purple layer but somehow in my eyes the colours didn't work so I scrapped that and included silver/white instead, and a lighter purple instead of the pink of Kazai's puffy collar shirt layer— hence why I included that pink on the bottom instead. The earrings... I just thought they looked nice, haha.

So this is it!! This was... A Trip™ to write, and I can only hope it'll be A Trip™ to read too. If nothing else my mental gymnastics should be rather entertaining.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #winds of wolfsong #wolfpack au #shapur #rotten egg's shitty art #the character design sheet saga #what's with me and my penchant for associating characters with red #it happened first with Lacie Baskerville— I imagined her dress to be red #only for it to turn out purple #then Shapur #then Zandeh #strangely enough I can't associate Isfan with red #??????? WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY BRAIN #I hope y'all enjoyed this!#imma go hide now

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vamppvania · 6 months

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How would you fill this but for Betty?

https://www.tumblr.com/copied-factory/731265243644411904/ask

This is a long one so under da cut

Ok these center more on pre crown betty bc i imagine magic betty to be a drastically different character and i didnt want to cause confusion. Also sorry if these don't make sense I'm very tired, if anyone has any Thoughts on these hcs lmk!! :)

- What is the character’s go-to drink order?

Beer drinker fs. Orders bud light bottled not on tap

- What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

On good days, she'll shower, brush her hair & teeth, shapewear, mascara even. On bad days, long stretches of time goes by without a shower, brushed teeth, clean clothes ect

- What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go?

I don't think she has much disposable income, most of it goes into work because work Is her leisure time. Oh but her and simon are absolutely That kind of couple that go on yearly backpacking trips, which can be pricey

- Do they have any scars or tattoos?

Got a tattoo when she was 16 and thought it was so fucking cool and awesome. It was a crow on her back

Lots of scars though. A careless child that spent a lot of time outdoors and an impulsive adult with no self preservation; shes a collection of calluses, burns and scars with their own stories to tell

-What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances?

I think betty is an angry/overstimulated crier so it can be anytime from minor inconveniences adding onto stress to because a coworker insulted her intelligence.

- Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child?

Youngest child to one older sibling. Its why she's a biter

- Describe the shoes they’re wearing.

Boots boots boots. From the mountaineering boots made for like 7000M of expedition to tasteful suede ankle boots for events. Obsessed with those mid calf boots she wears post YFYF I know she's that kinda dyke

- Describe the place where they sleep.

Damn bitch you live like this? I think her personal space is always invaded by work, education, or whatever niche interest, so there's little space for Her. She still makes space for treasured belongings though (picture of simon she kept). But if work demands her full attention, she's inexorable. Cleanliness/hygiene is put to the wayside, allowing dust to pile up alongside dirty dishes and used laundry. Who needs sleep when you have coffee and cigarettes

Also she'd have a fern or two. It feels nice to be needed by something.

-What is their favorite holiday?

I dont think she celebrates any traditional american holidays, but shed happily dig into holidays not taught/acknowledged by christian american culture, especially if they connect to anything shes decoding or studying. Halloween still rules though

-What objects do they always carry around with them?

OK so I think she carries around a backpack everywhere she goes and there's a Lot in there that she thinks is essential like

Multi tool, utility knife, lock picks, travel sized codebook, journal, books, flashlight, marlboros, camera, adderall, cool rock she found, Walkman. All this and she still Always forgets her wallet

#thank you for this silly little prompt theyre fun 2 do and i have a lot of Thoughts! opinions even!#im actually not great at these kinds of character bulding idk why but its hard for me to really get in a characters head so #if i did a she wouldnt fucking say that im sorry im just a guy #adventure time #betty grof

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timhatchlive · 10 months

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God of Boundless Abilities

Isaiah 45:1–3 (ESV) Thus says the LORD to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I have grasped, to subdue nations before him and to loose the belts of kings, to open doors before him that gates may not be closed: 2 “I will go before you and level the exalted places, I will break in pieces the doors of bronze and cut through the bars of iron, 3 I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places, that you may know that it is I, the LORD, the God of Israel, who call you by your name.

Isaiah 45 speaks of Cyrus, the ancient king of Persia. Even that king was under the authority of Almighty God. God will make his way level. He will break doors that are closed. he will lead him forward where God wants him to go.

Imagine the prophet for your nation considering the king of another pagan nation God's instrument whom God will lead! But this is the Holy Scripture that invites us to see the God of the Universe and not the "god" of our own imagination. He does as He wills, not as we wish.

Notice the phrase, "Whose right hand I have grasped". God holds the power of Cyrus and does with Him what He wants. Cyrus will be the vessel through which God will open the way for the exiles to return.

God tells Cyrus that nothing is required concerning Cyrus' knowledge of the Lord for the Lord to do this.

Isaiah 45:4 (ESV) For the sake of my servant Jacob, and Israel my chosen, I call you by your name, I name you, though you do not know me.

It is earth-shattering for some of God's people to hear passages like this. We think world leaders need to repent before God can use them. Nonsense! God is not bound by our will or desires. God is not bound by our conversions! He can do what He wants with His clay at any time and in any way.

Isaiah 45:5–6 (ESV) I am the LORD, and there is no other, besides me there is no God; I equip you, though you do not know me, 6 that people may know, from the rising of the sun and from the west, that there is none besides me; I am the LORD, and there is no other.

God also says to Cyrus, "I equip you, though you do not know me." Consider the leaders and world-changing thinkers through history. Is it not also possible that God gave them those thoughts and abilities without their repentance to accomplish His divine purpose throughout history? YES! Ultimately all of this is so that people may know the Lord even through the tools and gifts of people who do not know the Lord.

I think in this case of Elon Musk. A world-changing thinker and creator. God has certainly gifted him beyond normal human ability. His actions are shaping society's travel and speech. He is not a confessing Christian but God is using him to transform culture so that censorship might be eradicated on social media. God does not need repentance or belief to use people. And that reminds us that He alone is God! Our hopes are never dashed because our God is never restricted.

A troubling text follows:

Isaiah 45:7 (ESV) I form light and create darkness; I make well-being and create calamity; I am the LORD, who does all these things.

God is going to use the wars and calamities of the nations to accomplish this. Sadly, and we cannot understand it, the troubles in our world are also used by God to bring people to Himself. But remember, God is working with a fallen creation. Sometimes the means seem dark.

Isaiah 45:8 (ESV) “Shower, O heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain down righteousness; let the earth open, that salvation and righteousness may bear fruit; let the earth cause them both to sprout; I the LORD have created it.

This could be the verse from which Jesus tells us the Father causes the rain to fall on the righteous and unrighteous. All good comes from Him. But only He can open the Earth and bring our righteousness out of death through His Son.

Isaiah 45:9 (ESV) 9 “Woe to him who strives with him who formed him, a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’ or ‘Your work has no handles’?

We fail to grasp these things when we are busy trying to figure God out according to our own understanding. In fact, Isaiah declares doom for those who fight it. He is the potter and we are the clay. Do not ask "Why this and not that?" Rather ask, "What is God saying to me and asking of my life?"

Amen.

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#belief #Christianity #faith #God #holy spirit #Isaiah #Jesus Christ #Truth

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steamedtangerine · 8 months

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Okay....so Tumblr got walloped by a spree of empty accounts pestering any active blog with shallow follows here for over two and half months. I mentioned to someone who brought this up, that these accounts are low-effort trolling, and that in my past experience, they usually act as ground cover distraction for something far more convincing (and worse) on the way.

-so, yeah, while we were swatting at gnats, Tumblr was bombarded by a lot (A LOT) of accounts shilling like crazy for the fake-ass QAnon conspiracy fiction film "Sound of Freedom" in that time. These recent accounts were good at appearing anime ("i aM An arTIsT!") or safely "gay" or appearing like Christian mom's who get gooey over Caviezel (the worst are these incredibly fake "Catholic" accounts who have never heard of Dorothy Day and think showing a generic pic of an icon will convince others-along with the word "Catholic" in their URL-that they are the real deal). The accounts were trying really hard to "appear Tumblr", and the fact there were so many of them makes this "the big hill they wanted to die on" for this year (so far). Chances are these accounts (many with goofy pop culture reference names) are ones you wouldn't even go near following, but they very likely lurked near any popular post you had lately to beef up their cred here.

One account aptly pointed out that they sound like cultists parroting the same things "everyone must see this film!", "this film really opened my eyes" (to what? trafficking? something human rights groups have been yelling about since the 70s and 80s?), and "God's children are not for sale!"....many went as far as to get conspiratorial saying that the movie itself was a victim of a plot to undersell it, to show it in poorly air conditioned theaters, or that outlets aptly critiquing the film, like Rolling Stone, are part of the "evil Soros (((elite)))" (actual dog-whistles in use) trying to suppress the film. If the film were suppressed, it simply would've not been released. You have guys like Musk, Trump, and that antisemite, Mel Gibson supporting it.

-by far the worst and most combative spew to come from these accounts is the false dilemma of "anyone who dislikes this film is a Pedo"-oh, like we haven't heard this ugly, slanderous drivel from scores of trolls on every platform over, basically anything, in the last eight years. This ranks with "If you criticize the state of Israel's actions in Palestine, you must be antisemitic." Oddly enough, the persons involved in the film are antisemitic, far-right POSs.

Now....

If anyone had a lingering thought that this movie was typically RW deflection and projection away from all the pedophilia found within circles of RW A-holes (There have been eight guys who worked under Trump called out as pedos....this is not including Trump's heavy ties to Epstein, or associations Trump has had with pedos like Roy Moore or Matt Gaetz....just recently, an anti-abortionist named Cole Wagner was arrested for child sex abuse, and a Patriot Front member in Utah arrested with child porn)....well, guess what, the above producer of the film, Hutchinson, was filmed in 2016 feeling up the breasts of a trafficked underage girl...y'know, to stay "in that deep cover". Recently, Tim Ballard was discovered using women to "pose as wives" (y'know, that "deep cover thang") in his self-indulgent crusade, and it involved him insisting the women must shower and sleep with him. A financier for the film, Fabian Marta, was found to be a child-kidnapper, and though it is not proven, there have been wild rumors that the far-right nut Caviezel was watching child porn "for research on the subject matter".

So, yeah, the call is coming from inside the building, and anything these dead-in-the-water accounts say by praising this film is complete BS (thanks for the extensive blocklist, Tumblr).

It's bad enough you had accounts here pushing the Wayfair conspiracy crap over two years go or some that actually shilled this phony "outrage" over oil-heiress-funded fake clean-cut "climate activists" causing disruptions at events (unmasked) and "vandalizing" art work at museums that chose to no longer allow support from BP, but to come on here and stir up a repackaged QAnon like a re-heated dogturd and use that as Carte Blanche to label critics with the worst things you could possibly label someone just to protect the name of a truly rotten political party that has been going down in flames for years now is unforgivable.

This fictional film does absolutely nothing to stop the real danger of human trafficking and child pedophila. It bolsters this "white Christian man" is gonna fight the "menace across the border", rather than look at what is going on in churches and cults and scout groups and locker rooms and Olympic gymnast training committees and with the family members, friends, and coaches we think we know. It has proven again and gain, such films engender misguided Satanic Panic style hysteria and hamper the efforts of real groups trying to fight this menace for decades.

-and again, I'm sorry for the clumsy comments I left elsewhere about who was involved with what and how, but the four (at least three) I mentioned involved in the film above are now getting exposed as the hypocrites that they are.

#idiocracy #propaganda #top tier #wise up Tumblr!

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rainafoxfire · 11 months

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Purple Fairy Cocktail (Ostara, Spring Equinox)

Inspired by the spirit of the Spring Equinox, this purple fairy cocktail with butterfly peaflowers enchants any Ostara brunch.

Natural flower extracts give this delightful drink its rich, magenta color.

Add some ground ginger, vanilla vodka and a splash of bubbling club soda, and you’ve got yourself a good reason get a little drunk throw an impromptu garden party.

(Please note: This section may contain affiliate links. )

Magical Correspondences

A kitchen witch cocktail is really just a drinkable potion.

For this one, I chose the ingredients for their flavor as well as their magical correspondences to the spring season.

In particular, I kept Ostara and Beltane in mind. This serves really well during the cakes & ale portion of the ritual, or simply to add a little character to your Spring Equinox gathering.

But spring weddings, handfastings and bridal showers also make appropriate gatherings for the purple fairy cocktail.

(And if you’re a practicing Christian witch, or you simply celebrate Easter as a cultural holiday, you might enjoy serving it then, too.)

Butterfly Peaflowers

These magical flowers change color from deep indigo to purple on contact with acids (like the lemon juice in this recipe).

Their color-changing effect symbolizing transition, emerging, and the constant, seamless metamorphosis of life.

We include them here to infuse our cocktail potion with these qualities.

(Bonus? You can use up the leftover peaflowers to make some full moon milk).

Ginger

This warm, beautiful root spice is one of my go-to for kitchen witch recipes.

Ginger’s many metaphysical properties make it a versatile and heart-warming spell ingredient.

Here, we use it for its healing vibrations to sooth and smooth away old wounds and renew ourselves for the coming growth of spring.

Club Soda

Who knew club soda also works as a spell ingredient?

The bubbly, effervescence of club soda inspires fresh thought, new ideas and the dreamy, ethereal quality of fairies.

All things that usher in good vibes for the spring season!

Lemons

The cool, vibrant flavor of lemon calls to mind the dappled rays of early morning light on a crisp March morning.

Besides their knack for cutting sweetness, lemons are also a classic sun magic ingredient.

We include them in this recipe to dispel winter darkness and usher in a sense of lightness and brightness.

Flower Garnish

If there’s one thing that symbolizes the spring season, it’s flowers!

You might be surprised to know that many flowers, including violets, roses and lavender, are edible.

I love to include edible flowers in my spring recipes. It gives any dish or drink a dreamy, feminine flair.

Pairings

This cocktail is especially pleasing with floral pastries and cookies.

It pairs well with any of the following:

Flower Moon Cookies

Violet Fairy Cakes

Cinnamon & Rose Love Spell Cookies

Lemon Sun Cakes

A few tips.

Minor adjustments make or break any recipe, so consider the following variations to take this purple fairy cocktail from average to enchanting.

Balancing the Lemon with the Sugar

If you go too heavy on the syrup, you’ll end up with a drink that’s way too sweet.

Even if you like a sweet cocktail, start out light on the syrup, sip it and then add some more until you get a ratio you like. You can always add, but you can’t subtract.

If you notice you went to far with the syrup, add the more lemon juice.

Work all that out before you top it off with the club soda.

Chilling the Vodka

Consider throwing the vodka in the freezer 10 or 20 minutes before you make this.

It slows down the chemical reaction of the peaflower with the lemon juice.

This adds another dimension of awesome, because you get these psychedelic transitional layers of blue and purple.

Choosing flowers.

Definitely go with fresh (not dried) flowers here.

It gives it a just-picked-from-the-garden wow factor.

Be careful about getting them from the grocery store or picking them from a garden that you didn’t tend yourself.

If you get them from a grocer, make sure they were grown organically and rinse them in sink before use. Pesticides on flowers on not held to the same safety standards as pesticides used on foods and edibles.

Last but not least—the ginger.

As tempting as it seems, resist the urge to sub dried, powdered ginger in the syrup.

It makes the syrup brown and throws the color off, ruining the whole shabang.

Either grate ginger with a cheese grater, or cut it into very thin slices before stirring it into the syrup.

I like it spicy, so I let it steep for 3-5 minutes.

You can go longer, but lower the heat, and be careful not to boil off too much water.

Ingredients

-1 cup sugar

-1 cup water

-2 tbsp dried peaflowers

-1 tbsp fresh grated ginger (do not sub ground or dried)

-4 ounces vanilla vodka

-1 whole lemon, cut into quarters

-1 can club soda

-(optional) edible flower garnish

Step 1

Put water and sugar in a small pot or saucepan.

Heat, whisking constantly until the sugar dissolves.

Add fresh grated ginger. (Do not sub ground ginger). The longer you steep it, the stronger the ginger flavor becomes.

Add the dried butterfly peaflowers. The longer you steep them, the deeper the color becomes. At this point, the color will look more navy blue than purple. That’s okay.

Step 2

Strain the mixture through a mesh strainer to get out the chunky bits.

Put the syrup in a clean glass jar and let it refrigerate for 4 hours or overnight.

Step 3

Divide vanilla vodka evenly among 4 martini glasses.

Add peaflower/ginger syrup. More for a sweeter cocktail, less for a drier cocktail.

Squeeze lemon juice in. The color will change from deep blue to purplish.

Top off with club soda and a floral garnish.

Serve and enjoy!

Source: https://www.moodymoons.com/2020/03/01/purple-fairy-cocktail-ostara-spring-equinox/

#ostara #beltane #kitchen magic #spring activities #alcohol #lemon #pea flower #ginger

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best-voodoo-priest · 1 year

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Voodoo Practices and History

Voodoo is a popular cultural stereotype based on voudon, an Afro-Caribbean religion with its roots in Haiti but with adherents in neighboring countries and the Americas. Voudon is a term that encompasses a wide range of beliefs and practices, from those of the individual to those of the community at large, including a complex system of traditional medicine. Voudon is more than just a set of beliefs. It is a code of conduct passed down through generations through sayings, stories, songs, and folklore.

Voudonists share the Christian belief that the soul can leave the body during sleep or spirit possession. Christian theology views spiritual possession as an attempt by Satan or a demon to possess a human being against their consent. An invaluable first-hand spiritual experience and link to the spirit world, this possession is best used in a ceremony led by a voodoo priest or priestess.

History of Voodoo

Enslaved people created Voudon by fusing their West African religion with the Roman Catholicism they were forced to adopt by their owners, a process known as syncretism. Enslavers were mandated to convert their new African employees to Christianity within eight days of their arrival under a regulation passed in 1685 that also outlawed the practice of traditional African faiths. The Catholic Church approved of slavery because it helped convert Africans to Christianity. Enslaved people coerced into adopting Catholic practices gave them new significance, and many African Vodoo gods eventually came to be identified with Christian saints.

Voodoo Curses, Witchcraft, and its Evil effects

The evil effects of Voodoo encompass Witchcraft as well as Voodoo curse. Modern scientists and doctors are discussing the possibility of something called "Voodoo curse" in peer-reviewed medical journals, demonstrating the negative influence that belief in Voodoo can have on its adherents. The theology and philosophy of voodoo can be all-encompassing and dramatic. This culture has captivated and alarmed outsiders alike.

Witchcraft, an evil effect of Voodoo, involves getting haunted by spirits. Innocent and malicious spirits (kings, heroes, the reach, the righteous poor, obedient servants, etc.) roam freely after dark when the underground gates swing wide open, inspecting the souls of all citizens and keeping tabs on their actions, thoughts, and whether or not they are careful to instill cultural norms in their offspring. Spirits not only protect communities from harm but also oversee daily activities. It is in their hands to prevent droughts, floods, and the spread of deadly diseases.

Spirits would send wicked ones to torment a disobedient individual because while they can cause pain, they can only humiliate a person if he has disobeyed the wishes of his forefathers. As a form of punishment, they might make you sick to your mind, prevent you from taking a shower or medication, restrict you from sleeping in a bed or staying in your own house, and cause you to hear voices belonging to people he knows are dead. Some spirits have the power to direct their target to commit suicide.

Voodoo Priest and Priestess

A Voodoo Priest, or Houngan in the Vodou sect of the religion, is a respected religious and spiritual leader, educator, and role model for other Voodooists. The role of the Voodoo Priest is multifaceted, requiring him to uphold social order, treat the sick, and instruct his disciples in the ways of the religion. In addition, voodoo Priests perform numerous elaborate rituals essential to the faith. Similarly to how a Voodoo Priest is a male healer and leader in Voodoo, a Voodoo Priestess is the term used to describe a female healer and leader in Voodoo.

Voodoo Healing and about our services

It is essential to look for a good voodoo curse removal service. As well-respected voodoo specialists, we would use various methods to restore your health and happiness, including meditation, hypnosis, and rituals, so that you may lead a fulfilled and joyful life. In addition, we have access to some of the most skilled Voodoo practitioners and witch doctors, who will make quick work of any Voodoo spells performed upon you. The best part is that we have been doing Voodoo healing for years.

Voodoo is a significant part of the lives of millions of Haitians, and many people benefit from it. However, the practice also has far-reaching and effective negative consequences for the Haitian people. Most voodoo rituals are theatrical, epic events that fascinate and sometimes terrify onlookers.

#voodoo spell caster voodoo healing voodoo removal

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shelivesinhermind · 2 years

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Threads of Fate Part 12

You guys get a double update today! This story has come to an end, but I hope you all enjoy how it concludes :)

Read on AO3 here.

The great tree Yggdrasil shook, its leaves tumbling to the ground. The three women known by many cultures, many peoples, looked on in worry. Present had snapped a cord, finding it too long for her liking. The tree of life did not like her meddling.

It was tedious having fate in your hands, being able to weave destiny as you saw fit. Nor Past, Present or Future could always foretell what a force beyond them wanted.

The three women grasped one another as the tree continued its racking of the earth. The cord Present had snapped fell to the ground.

Unlike when she woke in the past, Emma’s eyes fluttered open, the cold feel of her bathroom floor beneath her face. She shook with cold, her body racking from whatever had pushed her to the past and now pulled her to the present.

She wanted to scream but no sound would come. The fluorescent light above her made her temples throb. As her hand moved to cradle her head, the silver wrap ring with a pearl inside caught her eye. She still wore her wedding ring.

Her cell phone began ringing again, but she ignored it entirely as she tried to grapple with how the ring remained on her finger.

Looking at herself, she also wore the very clothes she had been wearing in the castle. If she walked out in the streets on London, she would for sure be mistaken as someone heading to a Renaissance fair.

The incessant ringing of her phone making her irritated, she clumsily looked for it on the bathroom floor. Once she cancelled the call, she looked at the date and time—she had come back to the present around the time she left. Which meant all the calls were from Ross.

Pulling up her messages confirmed as much.

R: Here. Hope you were able to find a taxi in this traffic.

R: Em, are you coming? Everyone is here.

R: Look, if you need more time, I understand. We all do.

Time was everything she needed but had no way of getting back. If only she knew what cruel design was doing this to her, she would fix it. She would go back to a place she never thought she needed, to the man she was already aching for.

Standing on her feet, the reflection of herself in the mirror was nearly her undoing. She wanted to curl into a ball and damn everything around her. But she had never done that, and she was not about to start now. Despite the bleakness of her situation, her lack of understanding fully, she would not give up.

She would fight.

She took off the delicate crown she wore and sat it on the countertop. The dress she would have to cut herself out of, there was no use trying to untie the stays herself.

Once she was undressed, she showered, letting the water trail her tears. She would cry for now, let herself start grieving again for the moment.

Putting on a loose jogging suit felt foreign after months of wearing clothing from a different time—elaborate gowns had started to feel normal. She pushed the thought away, needing to focus and not let her emotions take over just yet.

She was going to find answers.

Booting up her laptop, she instantly began searching. It was strange to read about a woman with your same name, who you had previously been, but now no longer had a connection to.

She continued reading: Queen Emma and King Canute lived many years together, had children, created an expanding kingdom. She stopped reading there, not wanting to know any outcomes or what became of their fate.

How was it that history showed the king and herself living a full life together, yet she was here, in present day London? Did someone replace her just as she had taken the place of the queen?

The questions piled up and nearly had her breaking down again. Instead, she continued doing research.

Though she had grown up hearing great tales of the Vikings from her father, she was intrigued to find places with their history that existed, if only slightly. Christianity and the political moving of history had taken its toll on the many locations and history of pagan culture.

This time she did curl up on her bed, the recent article and images on her computer starring back at her.

She had lost her parents, now she was grappling with the possibility she had lost the man she loved, not to death, but some force beyond her she did not understand.

Emma woke the next morning feeling listless and out of place. Her computer still sat where she had left it. She turned it back on, the information she had been browsing still there. The erg in her to do something still so great, before she could think it over, she had booked plane tickets.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and quickly packing a bag, she jumped in a taxi and headed to the airport.

While in the car, she received numerous calls and texts, of which she ignored, most probably coming from her place of work. She realized how out of character it was for her to miss a day at the office, she had hardly taken off when her parents died, except for preparations and the funeral.

This was harder to explain. How could she say what had happened, why she was now doing the most random thing she had ever done?

She felt the need to be around something familiar, safe, just like she had when her father and mother died. What she felt now was like trying to find her way in the dark, but she needed to find her way somehow.

As she boarded the plane, she only hoped where she headed could give her some answers, or hopefully lead her to that feeling of safety again.

Hours on the plane had left Emma feeling drained and tired but that still did not stop her.

She quickly made her way through the Norwegian Airport at Stockholm, still not knowing exactly what her plan was.

She was able to find her bus by looking for the words Gamla Uppsala.

When Canute had left for Denmark, she had felt assured because she knew he would return. Her path had brought her to him, and he had given her everything he had worked for to take care of. She had had a plan; a way forward when she had felt lost. She knew she had a purpose.

The feeling of being lost consumed her again as she gazed out the bus window. A sense of numbness, emptiness having taken over. It was not until rolling hills of green and endless grass fields entered her view that she felt herself wake.

Gamla Uppsala stood as a hub for tourists throughout the year. Tours, a museum, and the beautiful view making it a popular place for those wishing to discover the history of Norway and the Vikings.

The great Royal Mounds stood like pillars on the land. Green hills meeting a piercing blue sky spread for miles. Great puffy clouds hung in the blue, creating shade in many of the fields.

As the bus pulled up to the nearby museum, Emma noticed very few people about.

She silently perused the museum. Seeing the history through a glass pane and written on plaques was nothing compared to being there yourself, knowing the Viking people for yourself. While much of what was on display had little to do with the Vikings she had known, she could not help but smile at the small reminders of what they were like.

Back outside, she walked the grassy hills, following a fenced path, until she found a small little chapel. A bell tower sat toward the back of the quaint area. Marbled stone lined the area around the chapel. Emma did not know if it was open but wanted to have look inside.

Finding the chapel open, she slowly creeped into the echoing sanctuary. The sanctuary was not much: wood pews lined from right to left, an altar with artwork hung behind it, an ambo sat to the side, large chandeliers dangled from the ceiling.

Emma did not consider herself religious and had never been in such a chapel. Yet, she sat, choosing to let the hollow space act as a holding area for herself. She wondered at the many lost souls such as herself that had also wondered into this holy place.

The events of the last twenty-four hours came crashing down on her, she lets tears silently fall again.

A distant shuffling breaking her thoughts, she turned to see a man emerging from a door toward the front of the chapel.

“Pardon me, miss. I am so sorry to interrupt you.”

With his creamy dark skin and blue eyes, Emma could have mistaken him for a tourist. His priestly robes, however, betrayed any further guessing.

Standing to gather her bag, she begins to retreat. “No, I am sorry. The door was open, and I just wanted to see inside.”

He meandered down the aisle to her, motioning for her to sit. “Please, that is why the door is open—for those who wish to enter.”

Their voices echoing throughout the tall sanctuary as they spoke, Emma sat as she asked. “Do you often have visitors?”

“Not very often, we are not the most popular attraction here in Uppsala.”

Emma’s gaze returned to the front of the chapel; the priest sitting next to her.

“May I ask why you have journeyed here?”

Emma contemplates her answer, knowing she would rather not sound like a crazy person.

“I came here to feel connected to a past I feel I have lost.” As honest words she could speak as a woman who just a day ago was among 11th century Vikings.

“How curious”, he says. “I too came here wanting to feel connected to my past.” When she did not interrupt, he continued. “My family originally is from Ethiopia. I grew up hearing stories of my family, even ones from long, long ago. Apparently, I have some Scandinavian lineage. A Viking and a great ancestor of mine fell in love, and centuries later, our dark skin and blue eyes still do not fit in entirely with our Ethiopian culture.”

“So why did you come here?”

He smiles to himself. “I suppose, after leaving for seminary, I was feeling a lack of understanding of who I was. So, knowing what I did, when I was offered the position at this parish, I took it.”

If only her predicament was that simple. She may have had an identity crisis when her parents died, but now, she knew who she was. She was Queen Emma, wife of the man she loved, Canute.

Instead of prying further, she changed the subject. “So how old is this chapel.?”

Gesturing to the sanctuary, he exhaled. “Oh, I would say it was built in the 12th century or so. Presumably a wooden church stood here before, and before that, it was said to be the ground for the Temple of Uppsala. One of the greatest centers for the pagan faith in history.”

As if she could picture it, Emma looked around the hollow sanctuary, willing the old magic to resurrect it. Secretly calling to the old ways to take her back.

“Well, I will leave you. Please, stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you”, she said as he started back to where he came from.

“Of course.”

She stands and walks to the front of the chapel. Once again feeling as if she can picture that ancient temple. The pits of fires that would be lite along the walls. Instead of a crucifix, statues to Freya and Odin would stand tall. An altar, not for praying, but for sacrifice, would be placed before her.

A subtle wind trickled through the sanctuary, taking strands of her hair with it. When she goes to return to her seat, she no longer stands in the chapel, but in a clearing, trees scattered throughout.

Leaves crinkle under her steps as she walks, utterly baffled. Sunlight breaks through the tree trunks; the forest is bumpy with uneven ground.

Still completely at a lose for words on how this was happening, Emma continued to walk.

She does not question her sanity this time, nor does she think she was bound for the afterlife. This time she knows better.

Suddenly overcome with joy that maybe, just maybe, she did make it back. That on some invisible prayer she willed herself back to the place she never would have left.

Jogging up a hill, she reaches yet another clearing, stone boulders ingrained in the earth. A cloaked figure sits on one. He does not turn to her or acknowledge she is there. Slowly approaching, she comes around to get a view of his face. She stops short when she sees a face marred, discolored. The place where his eyes should be covered with fleshy skin. The hood of his cloak concealing most of his features; a wooden staff sits in his hand.

“I knew you would come before me eventually.”

Taking a few tentative steps further, she stops just a few paces in front of the mysterious being.

“Who are you? Where am I?

He motions for her to sit before him. “I am the past, present, and future. Many seek me to know their fate. That is why you are here now.”

“But I did not seek to come here.”

“It is not my place to name the reason for people’s fate, only to see into the future and tell them. Do you not wish to know what lies ahead?”

Emma hesitates, not wanting confirmed what already has torn her heart in two. Yet knowing would be better than agonizing over the what ifs. She had been given this opportunity, no matter how bizarre, she needed to know.

As if sensing her decision, the cloaked figure holds his hand out. “Come, so that I may confirm what I already suspect is true.”

Taking his hand, not fully understanding how she knows what he means, she places on open mouthed lick on his palm.

“Yes, of course.”

Emma looks up at him, “Yes, what?”

“You must sit, for soon you must journey again.”

He pauses, as if images and a world unseen is playing out in front of him.

“What are you seeing?”

She dreads not being among the ones she loves, but dreads even more the ominous meaning of his words.

“I see death, destruction, the end. Then there is you, at the center of it all.”

Still confused on what the figure means, she sits on the boulder across from him. None of the cryptic messages he has given matters to her, there is only one thing she wishes to know.

“Do I return?” Return to him.

“There are many paths before you, and you will be the arbiter of a future that hangs loosely in the balance.”

Shifting to take an object from his cloak, he dangles a cord with a pendant on the end. Emma instantly recognizes it as the pendent Jarl Haakon gave her. The last she saw of the pendant was the night she had been abducted, thinking she had lost it in her struggle to get free.

What once had been a gift to find her way was now being handed to her as her ticket back. The symbols and inscriptions holding the answer all along.

“You will return, but be warned, the path ahead is filled with many uncertainties. You must take this; it will stand in place of your connecting thread to the past.”

He leans forward, presenting the pendant to her.

“Wait”, still confused on what the pendant means for her, what anything will mean for her going forward, she asks, “what was my connecting thread before—before the pendant.”

The hooded figure, that Emma can only guess as some seer or prophet, grows urgent.

“The future is still bleak. For the man who held you to him will be the first and the last.”

The first and the last Viking King of England. Emma instantly knows this seer speaks of Canute, for history told of how the Vikings gained England, she had been there. Her heart clenches at the word “last”, not wanting to think of its implications.

A new panic setting in, she grabs for the pendant, looping it around her neck.

She would go back, face anything she had to, so long as she did it with him. If there was to be hardship, she would weather it. Battles could come and go; she could fight them all with him by her side. She had always fought, always strived to keep going. This was her chance to go back, and she would not waste a moment of it.

The light of the forest brightened as if a flashlight had been turned on and pointed directly at her. The sense of falling overwhelmed her yet again, but this time, she was not afraid. As the light obscured her vision, the pull once again propelling her to the place she wanted to be, she smiled.

#canute x emma #emma of normandy #king canute #vikings: valhalla #fanfic

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nation-of-bros · 4 days

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I thought the second cunt would contradict this insane bullshit, but instead she adds another layer of crazy crap on top! Incredible!

The new political right is Zionist

In fact, the right-wing national movements in Europe are very pro-Jewish and pro-Israel. They revere the Zionists as role models, as doers. Geert Wilders, for example, called Israel a "democratic beacon in the dark Middle East". The right has long since discovered the Zionists as allies against the common Muslim enemy. This is of course totally stupid because they are fraternizing with those who caused this policy in the first place. As a result, this alliance does not meet with everyone's approval, so that the right-wing movements in Europe are somehow divided: The majority remain loyal to Israel, another large part stays averse, and a few even fraternize with Muslims because they see "Usrael" as the true enemy.

Even the right-wing extremists like Anders Behring Breivik identify strongly with Israel and admire the Jews as a leadership race. Breivik particularly values the faithful Jews because, together with Christians, they form the foundation of the “Judeo-Christian culture of the West”; a statement that, as a pagan who is proud to be unbaptized, causes me to vomit non-stop.

A Bizarre Israeli Performance

When I saw this performance by an Israeli, I found it very strange; on the one hand because I already knew back then about the role of the Zionists in the forced refugee immigration to Europe, on the other hand because he is so eloquent and suddenly acts as if those 12 years of Hitler never existed, while wrapped in Germany colors. I mean, the Holocaust is their central defining feature, but at this moment it was the rejection of the Islamic threat that unified "us". Accordingly, I was suspicious of this form of fraternization from the start!

youtube

Off-topic: Review of the Pegida movement

At the time, I certainly sympathized with the Pegida movement, but the name always made me feel sick: “Patriotic Europeans against the Islamization of the West,” because I never saw myself as a “patriotic European,” but only as a “German”.

The background to Pegida is again very typical of the system's false flag actions. The initiator of this protest movement himself has a dubious criminal past, which was later used to denigrate the entire movement and thereby silence legitimate criticism. One can assume that the main actors in this movement were well placed by the secret service, just as they also use informants to infiltrate parties. It is a typical pattern of how this system cleverly acts against other opinions. They themselves create oppositions and protest movements in order to then slaughter them for a big feast.

Today, 10 years later, NOTHING remains of Pegida as the largest protest movement in Germany since reunification, which even had many European offshoots. I guess back then it was nothing more than a well-installed valve where people could let out their anger; but these mass protests changed absolutely nothing; on the contrary! Just a year later, in 2015, Germany was filled with millions of Muslims like never before, yet Merkel was still elected in the following years! For me, this just shows how pointless all political activity is: demonstrations don't change anything about the system and get quickly forgotten.

Again, I can't emphasize the irony enough: They demonstrated against "the Islamization of the West" and received even more Islamization ;D. But instead of going crazy, they obediently stuck to the rules of the system, so they could only lose.

USrael, the main Zionist host body

What they have caused in Europe is just pure chaos and it will not end well for Jews. The USA will be their only refuge in the future, which they have already pretty much exhausted: consider how all presidents bow to AIPAC and shower Israel with money. That doesn't exactly increase sympathy. Moreover, they have even been waging wars in the Middle East for Israel for decades. In order to trigger the necessary patriotism, the CIA in cooperation with Mossad blew up the Twin Towers. For the Zionists, the USA is just a huge host body that they suck out as long as they can, just as they suck out Europe and reshape it according to their ideas.

#politics #essay

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scentedchildnacho · 2 months

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Uhm he wanted to know about the motorized bikes if they do it for its inexpense so I said no....their like 600 dollars and up ....i thought they just hate women and enjoy that women died of poverty and deprivation so they could do unsafe awful things

Their capitalist platoons or mai lai incidents they just really hate women....and get into things like Turkish nationalism

Mother God is gone to work with even the illiterate so these types of things back fire mother God would care about the illiterate workers though

The mother God though loves you and wanted you though

It is women counter cultural or other differences would perceive different legislations but iw it is about how much it all hates women

Its women who would treaty the issue uhm places like peets coffee knows they cannot bring bisexual or alternate genders there

Because all gender restrooms finally really batter and kill the bitch

The white light alien knows she was suppose to stop turning down non profit ideas if she was going to public alternate gender activity

No you have to let them go back to private practice women don't have to die supporting every gender

Its for women only to talk about cellulite and work outs so they publicly burn the models and men know their not allowed at those clubs or they wife kill

Well it's men and optical illusion...men know they need transgender stripping ideas and stalk around ass displays like playmates

Its butt and it's only for women to think about these secularisms....we are all of river asylums so

She has to finally do something creepy to the men or its Jesus she isn't dressed to go out and your burning her cannibal

The men stop caring if their perceived as slaughtering playmates so that's why she starts ordering razor wire

Well I suspect it is all just a skam and I will have been really severely psychologically abused but it's just to keep making war money in the mid east and it's just irrational and I don't want to

Anyway mafiaites if they want to hate and blame women illiterate workers become police and he sets up systems of self abuse for them till they learn when they don't hate women a lot of that stops for them

If she wants to prove herself and largely only care about a male domestic abuser....she can buy a high powered bike and scare herself to death get ate up with dogs and hit with cars

Or he is bisexual and he does more choose masculine presences in areas I don't ask pronouns so if he is going to keep stealing things from homeless women like a health club pass to regularly shower he can give it to someone who puts a large tattoo on him....

It's been my experience of California that spa services are taken as very rude requests.....and to not go unless films like the women are correct....if I'm actually from a wealth group that didn't share well with the lady christian who is my masseuse or retailor otherwise it's all into rape punishment.....and as poor and homeless it just gives their practice felonies and im.not sure they arent doing factual things

So I think his tattoo did really hurt and the lotion care applications did give him melanoma or carposi sarcoma like acne

Then they have to put the french cosmetics on it

Dugas is a politic?......

Anyway I just said to him at the time about the bikes that I think they are domestically abused and have never gone through recovery processes to protect themselves because the person who bought the motorized bike claims she is homeless

She can't do anything normal to protect herself like grab a place to stay for a month or purchase her car in advance

She has enough to join a women's military group and may only spend it on getting hit in traffick

So I think they call themselves mental peers and steal it off my program because they can't do anything with it but hurt themselves if it's my programs

Uhm their weird and their told stealing that much off homeless programs will cause COVID clinics so they start slowly getting placed in nightmares out of song of the cell their around indigenous people and appear fooled by the charm and they report people not giving them their developments and this is what it turns them into

I was white and I often report people for turning me into a crowd to klannish watch these executions and see if I can be merciful.....

They create KKK with those types of rejecting of common law ideas then complain when whites are like well you really raped my ass so I know that I don't understand you so I didn't show up at your emergency because you told me my emergency was just a character defect to beat

That's me about what the subtle alliance is in California....if white development and renewal is rejected I get turned into a cannibalistic vampire if indigenous peoples developments and renewals are rejected they get turned into cannibalistic Africans it's that's its that bad sympathy is mostly for just how violent they can make people feel....

They do need to just fly confederate flags then and only do business with their country

She....nya reyes wanted to be a woman and was whipped in all sorts of ways to forcibly serve military duty as a man.....so I think She....figures out he and kind of keeps the kids too

Slaves slave like characters had to grow up in and figure out these post modern counter cultures so

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f0xd13-blog · 6 months

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" i like dragon ball and anime and pumpkins" you like dried ass crusty spanish pussy that's what you like

And then he be dressed all thug thinking that's his culture... like a fucking clown.

Edit coz i can't make new posts: I DON'T CARE! Now you're gonna pay for your lack of thought... you just need to get with low resources but that happens with time while that i'll be having a vacay from you in prision coz honestly the world outside is way worst and y'all made it that way for me... remember when I said that i wasn't exerating??? I'm wasn't... at all!! i had one of the worst lives you could ever imagine but i still managed to know more than you, be smarter than you, look better than you... coz that ain't got nothing to do with being poor or not ok? Most homeless people get like that because they gave up on life it's different poor people don look that bad because wes shower (or at least try lol althought i live in better conditions now and shower everyday, you get my point tho) and have nice clothes even if not many and if you was ever really really really REALLY poor and from the guetto like y'all like to throw around so much, you would know that... that is why i know most people are full of bullshit when they say that... their daddies said no to them like two times and that made them a hard childhood. So yah hope you rotten in hell. And hey christianity was mainly gypsy like i said before and that shit god and jesus told you... that you've betrayed has everything to do with this... so don't pray to him coz he ain't gonna help you.. in fact everything that is happening are consequences sent by them. After all y'all just a bunch of jews right? Caring for 10 kids with money just coz they have money. You see how eveything actually makes sense? Eveything makes sense, nothing is nonsensical that is why the univers is infinte... one would not be able to coexist without the other.

So conclusion that is how i know you were never really poor when i tell you this and you assume i'm also playing the victim like you and look at me like oh you poor looking like that? THAT'S HOW I KNOW YOU NEVER BEEN THROUGH THE HARDSHIPS YOU LIKE TO CRY SO MUCH ABOUT

You see how this sounds dumb and stupid...? And you want me to relate to this?no hate... just questioning how do i relate to a person that could be eveything but decide to do what we once would do in TRAUMA MODE?

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the-hem · 8 months

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"The Parable of the Mustard Seed." Matthew 13:31-43.

Jesus explains there are secrets the universe has kept from man since the beginning. These are only to be revealed through the use of Hebrew, the language of the God of Israel and the gods of heaven, the Angelic Host. All spiritual thought on this world came from Hebrew, it is the bedrock of faith, and Judaism represents the topical features which sit upon it. As we have discussed in my other forums, the process of growing up life on a world that was once a hot, bitter smoking rock is evolutionary. One character feature at a time, the world made itself under the direction of God and the gods.

We were programmed from the beginning of time to come into existence to follow a certain course. During the process, God gave us Vedanta, Buddhism, Islam and Christianity in order to for us to be able to keep up, to remain parallel partners in the development of humanity.

This seems odd to us in a time of mass media and instant communication but this was once a very disconnected world with cultures that showed more differences than similarities from one another. As we are learning religion was one of the similarities. Not only in practice but in sentiment.

It's this sentiment that is the secret- the artificial bond man has to his intelligence and his continual striving to be in absolute, utter, elegant control over all that befalls him. Still, there are problems...Jesus likens the proper combination of factors that will outmode the problems to the possibilities inherent in the mustard seed, now recognized world over as a lesson, the secret of how to grow a splendid world up out of one that appears, at times, to be completely damned.

The God of Israel spoke of this Himself to the people, uniformed as one them:

31 Another parable put he forth unto them, saying, The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field:

32 Which indeed is the least of all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof.

33 Another parable spake he unto them; The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened.

34 All these things spake Jesus unto the multitude in parables; and without a parable spake he not unto them:

35 That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, saying, I will open my mouth in parables; I will utter things which have been kept secret from the foundation of the world.

Grains are blessings showered upon this earth by an ingenious God:

Food that is made from grain (wheat, barley, rye, spelt or oat) but is not bread gets the blessing mezonot (מְזוֹנוֹת). This includes cakes and pastries, most crackers and cereals, pasta and other cooked grain products like farfel and couscous.

The blessing:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְ‑יָ אֱ‑לֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא מִינֵי מְזוֹנוֹת

Baruch atah A-donay, Elo-heinu Melech Ha’Olam borei minei mezonot.

Blessed are you L-rd our G‑d, King of the Universe, Who creates various kinds of sustenance.

Mustard seed is measured against other grains in the following verse, associated with the writings of the Jewish Prophet Maimonedes.

4. What is implied? [For example,] mustard seed was mixed with grain. Now a kav10 of mustard seed is sown in the area fit for a se'ah of grain.

If one twenty-fourth of a kav of mustard seed is mixed with a se'ah11 of grain or legumes, one must reduce [the mustard seed].

Similarly, if it was customary to sow two se'ah of a species of garden seeds in an area where a se'ah of grain would ordinarily be sown,12 should a half a kav13 be mixed in a se'ah of grain or legumes, it must be reduced.

A kav represents the Cup. It is mixed with grains to complete the Eucharist. A se'ah is the weight of the Glory of God, symbolic of the moment of revelation.

If there is too much mustard, then what one gets is a zealot, which is forbidden. The Prophet said to reduce the instance of "faith poisoning" caused by the cup, one reduces the mustard to one 24th, which means "apsad" to look inside [the temple] and partake of other grains or legumes richer in knowledge-sustenance:

"The mustard seed’s growth is forbidden. It should not be there. But look at the mustard seed’s character. If you are just using one tiny mustard seed and let it grow, it will break through and impose itself to the point of becoming the ONLY element. If you have this type of faith, you will erase any existent obstacle or doubt by letting your faith grow to into a mustard tree!"

So in the case of the sowing of the mustard seed it represents the serving of the Cup to humanity, with the appropriate kinds of effort behind it, resulting in the end of all bloodshed, violence, and discontinuity between people and their governors, and explains why Jesus brought mustard up in the first place. It explains how the world is come by its needed changes. The Cup can't do everything but what it represents might mean it can do what is needed.

The next part of the Parable of the leavening of the flour using three parts to one follows this pattern. All equanimity with creation, whether the end of doubt, the end of violence, the end of delusion or a habit arrive at on the Third Day, or during what is called "thirds."

Leavening represents foreign ideas. In Egypt it was obvious the Jews had just about enough of that and God told them not to leaven their bread with Egyptian yeast. To "eat" Egyptian germ bugs in the bread made no sense.

Here Jesus says the flour is indeed to be leavened with His radically different ideas about how persons should live together.

So really the two parables explain the purposes of the Eucharist which take us beyond the Passover into new territory. Both are just observances of Shabbat and serve principal roles in the outfitting of humanity with the Yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven.

To be separate truly from it, cause harm then claim righteousness from within it, and finally an Atonement is blasphemy. What kind of world would sentiments such as these leave behind?

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